Oyster orgy

John Bil was shucking his heart out at Claddagh Oyster Bar, setting down juicy half-shells as fast as I could knock them back. And so he should, being a threetime Canadian oyster-shucking champion. Claddagh, in Charlottetown, is one of those havens for hard-core shellfish fans who want good oysters, an eclectic selection and an informed bivalve aficionado behind the raw bar who knows how to present them sans sand.

Bil was talking oysters and wine as he jabbed the sweet spot of each shell, deftly coaxing them to yield their pearls of creamy flesh. "West Coast oysters are strongly flavoured, the red wines of the oyster world. Slower growing, cold-water East Coasters are subtler, like white wines," he explained. The lineup chilling on ice at Claddagh's that evening included a variety from PEI, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, and I had ordered one of each to compare. That's when I learned that oysters and wine have more in common than just being a great couple meant for each other at the dinner table. Like grapes, oysters, too, can taste completely unlike others of the same species raised in different waters, even within the same province.

When I set out to Prince Edward Island last summer to cover the annual Canadian Oyster Shucking Championship, I knew my week would be an oyster orgy. After all, PEI is Canada's oyster capital, producer of the famed Malpeques. I also knew there would be wine. But what I didn't know was that the wine I would often drink with those oysters would be local. PEI-grown wine. Who knew?

Like all things PEI, oysters here lack the trendy cachet they hold in the pricey oyster bars of Toronto and Vancouver. "Dining out on oysters is not an island tradition, it's something to eat at home," Bil said. The province produces 80% of the Maritimes' oysters, about 300,000 metric tonnes a year, worth $7.4-million. Most of them end up in Quebec and Ontario.

Oyster culture, however, is big in PEI. You can barely drive past a lake, river or estuary without seeing oyster beds, or pounds, selling them fresh by the dozen. Growers of quality oysters are household names, such as James Power and his much-loved Raspberry Point oysters, a brinier vintage than those produced by Leslie Hardy on Malpeque Bay to the west, or the exquisite Colville Bay morsels reared by Johnny Flynn on the far eastern tip of the island and featured at the well-known Inn at Bay Fortune nearby. Then, of course, there is the Oyster Festival. The 42nd annual was being held the following weekend, the first in August, in the western PEI town of Tyne Valley. Bil would be there; as reigning 2005 champion he would be defending his title against a legion of the country's best shuckers.

In the days leading up to the festival, I prowled the island for oysters in every incarnation from fried and stewed to chowdered and Rockefellered. But I have a weakness for naked, unadulterated oysters, and among the best were those served at Carr's Lobster Pound and Oyster Bar, an island institution at Stanley Bridge. There I met 75-year-old George Carr, one of the industry's old-timers. "Before fridges, we'd keep a box of oysters in an unheated basement through winter," he said, "and they'd last for months." Carr said oysters are still harvested using the old method of "tonging," employing what looks like a pair of rakes hinged like scissors to scoop shells from the ocean bottom. It seems an outdated tradition designed to look quaint in tourist photos, but in fact it's a government- mandated technique to slow down the harvest and prevent oyster stocks from being depleted.

Carr's is a down-home waterfront eatery: no frills, just good seafood. The oysters were cool, delicious and cleanly shucked. A perfect breakfast. For lunch I headed to Dayboat Restaurant at nearby Hunter River, an airy, modern establishment serving fresh local cuisine. More oysters, of course. Since nothing helps them go down like a glass of cold white wine, I perused the wine list. That's when I first spied PEI wine. I ordered a glass, with a backup, just in case. But the Little Sands White from Rossignol Estate Winery was surprisingly good: off-dry, crisp, an excellent oyster partner. I jotted down the address from the label and set off for the southeast corner of the island.

Rossignol sprawls toward Northumberland Sound, its barnlike winery building blending with the rural landscape. John Rossignol, a former Ontarian, started making wine as a hobby in the 1990s, and now produces 3,500 cases of premium reds, whites and fruit wines that won him, at the 2006 All-Canadian Wine Championships, gold for his St. Jean Red and strawberry- rhubarb wine, and silver for a new product, a maple liqueur. More than 90% of his production is sold on the island; a few of his wines are available in Nova Scotia and Ontario, where the LCBO carries his 2004 Wild Blueberry Wine.

Rossignol is open for tastings most days throughout the summer. I'm not a big fan of fruit wine, but the strawberry-rhubarb is a delightful aperitif or dessert wine: pie in a glass. The high-octane maple liqueur cries out to be poured over a dish of vanilla ice cream, but the real winner for me was the killer Blackberry Mead. Aged for two years, it is a honeyed treat, traditionally crafted.

As the oyster-festival weekend approached, I checked into the Doctor's Inn, a bed and breakfast surrounded by an organic market garden in the heart of the tiny community of Tyne Valley, Oyster Central, near the shores of Malpeque Bay in western PEI. The charming two-room inn dates from the 1860s; book early and innkeepers Jean and Paul will create a gourmet meal for up to six in the dining room.

As it has been since 1964, the Tyne Valley Festival is a classic local affair, with a Miss Oyster Pearl Pageant, fiddling, fried oyster and scallop suppers and an oyster parade. Farmers, fishermen and housewives mingle with shuckers from the country's trendiest oyster bars. Rodney's Oyster House of Toronto was one of the most visible groups, with staff in camouflage T-shirts emblazoned with "Shuck and Awe."

Tension was high by 10 o'clock on Friday night when dozens of shuckers took the stage. Three contestants at a time stepped forward with their knives. A bell sounded and they were off, timed on how long it took to pry open 18 oysters. Judges then examined every oyster, adding seconds for flaws such as grit or blood. "The shuckers'," festival chairman Gary MacKay said. "Oysters don't have blood."

When the adjusted times were announced, a cheer went up as third place went to Rodney Clark, and second place to Rodney's son, Eamon. But the crowd really went wild when former local boy Jason Woodside was pronounced the winner, with a final time of one minute, 50 seconds: only one second off the festival record. Woodside hoisted the trophy over his head, but his biggest prize was a shot at the world championships in Galway, Ireland, in late September. Woodside competed, draped in a Canadian flag with a Maple Leaf dyed into his hair, but failed to win.

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